


but doth suffer a sea change

by Lise



Series: into something rich and strange [2]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Character Development, Cosmic Threat On the Horizon, Fury and Loki are weird friends sort of, Gen, Introspection, Past Torture, Protective Loki, SHIELD Agent Loki, Sequel, Snappy Narration, ofc Loki watches Dexter, setting up a bunch of things for the third one
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-29
Updated: 2014-05-29
Packaged: 2018-01-27 00:08:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 14,857
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1707608
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lise/pseuds/Lise
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Loki's working for SHIELD. It's not...terrible. On the other hand, Loki still doesn't know what he's <i>really</i> doing and the Avengers don't know how to leave well enough alone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The (long awaited) follow up to "into something rich and strange" arrives! Like two years late oh my godddd. And it's really...the set up for a third fic that's going to hopefully turn up before another two years go by. This fic has been a weird one to write in a lot of ways, but it exists, now, and I'm...tentatively pleased with it. And also very, very glad that it is over, so there's that. 
> 
> The voice on this one is a lot snappier than I feel like I've done in a while, which made it really fun to write, at least in places. With many, many thanks to [portraitoftheoddity](http://portraitoftheoddity.tumblr.com) and to [zaataronpita](http://zaataronpita.tumblr.com) for reading this over for me and making sure it made sense and wasn't going to give any readers whiplash. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy. (And look forward to probably a lot of Thor and Loki feels in the finale of this one, because, you know, reasons.)

His contract, as it turned out, was lengthy and full of rather a lot of stipulations about killing people. “Is this standard issue?” Loki asked, mildly.

“No,” said the man watching him from safely through the glass, unremarkable and apparently quite nervous, “Not exactly.”

Loki wondered idly how long they had spent working it up. And how long it had been completed. If, perhaps, Fury had been hoping for this sort of eventuality all along. “Just for me, then? I’m flattered.” The man, an assistant of some sort, swallowed audibly and fidgeted.

Loki skimmed through the last few pages, and set it down. “Is your director occupied?”

“I don’t-”

“Right here.” Fury stepped out of a door that opened out of what had seemed to be seamless wall. In the flesh, this time. “What is it?”

Loki tapped his fingers on the top of the contract. “I read through this. Am I to take it that none of the terms are negotiable?”

Fury pursed his lips. “Yes,” he said, a perfect picture of neutrality. “That’s pretty much what you get.”

Loki pulled his hand away and tapped two fingers against his lips, then summoned the nearest pen from Fury’s pocket and scrawled his name on the appropriate line. “Is that all I need to do?” He asked, lifting the pen from the paper and glancing at Fury with quirked eyebrows.

He thought he caught just the barest hint of surprise on that impassive face, and possibly of relief. Loki refrained from smiling out of a sense of politeness.

“There’s a whole lecture about behaving yourself,” Fury said after a moment, “But I figure that’d pretty much be wasted air.”

Loki rocked back on his heels. “And if I do not…behave myself?”

“Well,” said Fury, impressively deadpan, “Then that’s really too bad, isn’t it?” Loki felt one corner of his mouth tug upwards, unwillingly amused.

It was interesting, he thought, the delicate balance of this situation. Fury knew how thin the leash he held was. Loki knew the same. Fury no doubt knew that Loki was aware. And yet they were both pretending they did not. Surely somewhere in the bowels of this place was some team of people seeking desperately to find a way to kill him, or contain him, and Loki would not mention that. It was an odd, entertaining sort of dance.

One he thought, vaguely, that he might even enjoy. “And the Avengers?” he said, after a moment. “How am I to deal with their…inevitable dislike?”

“You don’t.”

 “Beg pardon?”

“You keep your goddamn distance, is what you do.” Fury’s expression had gone a little tight. Not that anyone else would notice, but Loki had spent human lifetimes perfecting the ability to read what others did not want to be seen. And wasn’t that interesting? “You provoke them, you get to deal with it. SHIELD won’t help, and you start endangering civilians and I will scramble a few fighter jets to help them take you down. Got it?”

Very interesting indeed. Loki felt his mouth curve into a very slow smile. “Aside from Thor…they do not know, do they? That you are offering me this…deal. You told Thor because you had to, but the others…they, perhaps, assume that other arrangements are being made?”

Nick Fury did not, quite, look annoyed. Which answered Loki’s question in itself.

This time he could not keep himself from laughing.

“How long do you imagine you can keep it – keep me – a secret?” Loki asked, barely able to prevent a grin from spreading across his face. “Even if I am perfectly discreet – you give them too little credit, I think. You do not trust your little band very far, do you?”

“Trust you even less.”

“Then you are not entirely hopeless.” Loki could not quite keep himself from snickering. “Well. Very well. I will keep my distance, and we shall see how long you can keep your secrets before they ferret them out, and then we shall see how they – and you – plan to navigate the inevitable fallout. It should, at the very least, be interesting.”

“Oh,” said Fury, darkly, “That happens, don’t you worry about me.”

Loki smiled the smile that he was well aware was entirely too placid to be honest. “I am so very touched,” he murmured, “by your concern. Now,” and he gestured at his surroundings, his cage, with a careless hand. “These are not to remain my accommodations, are they?”

“No,” said Fury, “But we’re not your babysitters. SHIELD fully expects you to provide your own living arrangements.” There was just the slightest glint in his eye. Loki could almost pity him the disappointment when he did not see him stumble. Almost.

He’d done far too much stumbling recently.

“Oh,” Loki said with a broad smile. “I intend to.”

* * *

They let him out of his cage a few days later. Someone attempted to present him with a uniform, which he ignored in favor of his own choice of Midgardian clothing. And then they let him go.

Not so easily, of course. There was another conversation with Fury (brief and to the point and largely amounting to ‘first sign of trouble and we sic Thor on you’ which Loki privately thought was rather adorable) and a tracking device injected into his wrist that Loki was confident he could trick with little effort in a few days, but allowed for the moment.

They put him to ground, Loki noted with amusement that verged just slightly on humorless, in a small town in a desert. With his magic still barely functioning, that was more troublesome than he wanted to admit.

But not for very long.

It was truly extraordinarily tempting to reach for extravagance purely out of a sense of humor. In the end, though, Loki would always prefer the understated.

Elegant, _expensive,_ but understated.

He almost pitied Fury his assumption that Loki would be as utterly lost on Midgard as Thor had been, as woefully unprepared. Loki had done his research, his reading on all nine of the Nine Realms (such as there was, for a few of them) and if he had not thought of his preparations as escape routes, well-

It was fortunate that he had them. An identity, money, assorted other useful things. A few phone calls from the device SHIELD had so thoughtfully issued to him and they were within reach; a few more and he was on his first transatlantic flight.

The plane, Loki determined, was cramped, uncomfortable, smelled strange, and while it was a marvel of engineering he hoped never to take one again. Upon landing, he turned on the phone again and noted the flood of missed calls and voicemails.

He called Fury.

“What do you think you’re doing,” the man said the moment he picked up the phone, and Loki swallowed his laugh with an effort. _You thought you bested me. You had best get used to learning otherwise._

“Why,” Loki said with perfect innocence. “As instructed. I am making my living arrangements.”

“You were in New Mexico. How did you get to Europe? I thought your powers were still on the fritz.” Loki recognized the testiness in Fury’s tone, and tried not to be amused by it. He needed to step carefully, still. Mind his manners. Take care of human sensibilities.

“I flew,” Loki said lightly, and then added, “On an airplane. It was quite uncomfortable. Is that a problem?”

“How did you-” Fury swore. “Next you’re going to tell me you have an apartment in Paris.”

“Not Paris,” Loki said smoothly, “And not yet, but I expect soon.” He could almost hear Fury’s teeth grinding. _Carefully,_ he reminded himself, but for the moment he suspected he was enough of an asset and too much of a risk for Fury to make a fuss over this.

And it was important to set a standard early on.

A long silence. At last, Fury said, “You haven’t broken any actual rules. Yet. I’ll let this one slide, since you’re still getting _acclimated.”_

“You are gracious,” Loki replied.

“Don’t get used to it,” Fury grunted after a moment’s silence, and hung up. Loki could not quite help a grin. He was dancing on a razor thin wire, he knew, and likely falling off it would mean at the very least pain, and if the humans were clever (and some of them seemed to manage something close) perhaps something more permanent. Nonetheless, it was a bit of a thrill.

Perhaps, it occurred to him dryly, Thor was not the only reckless one in the family.

He tucked the phone back away and stretched. The airport around him hummed with human activity, none of them casting him even the slightest sideways glance. How short their memories, Loki thought. Or else how unobservant, that without his armor he could be so completely unrecognizable. He chose to be amused rather than stung.

He caught a cab outside of the airport easily enough, rattled off the address from memory, and leaned back comfortably, stretching out his legs as much as possible. He ignored the cab driver’s attempts to engage him in conversation, mind already leaping ahead.

Or trying. The drive was not short, and he was still healing. At some point Loki dropped off without realizing it, only to nearly break the driver’s wrist when he tried to shake Loki awake. He managed to stop himself at least, paid the man generously, and stepped out into a light drizzle.

It was a moment’s thought to don a face that wasn’t his and stroll over to the right door, knocking not hard but crisply. A man opened it a moment later and eyed him suspiciously.

“We’re closed,” he said. Loki smiled thinly.

“Not to me.” He produced an envelope from inside his jacket, and held it out. “I think you’ll find this covers any objections you may have.”

The man narrowed his eyes further, then took it and opened it, pulling out the yellowed piece of paper within. He looked at it, looked up at Loki, and his eyes went very round. “Ah,” he said, after a moment’s silence. “I…see.”

Loki smiled. “I thought you might. Now. I’m here to call in a debt.”


	2. Chapter 2

Loki frowned down at the whimpering heap at his feet, almost disappointed. He slipped the slender phone out of his pocket, dialed a number, and lifted it to his ear.

“This had better be good news,” Fury’s voice snarled over the line. Loki felt his mouth quiver, and tried not to let his smile be audible.

“Do I ever call with anything else? Your – ah – problem is neutralized. The target was your United Nations building.”

“Was?”

“I believe I have…persuaded all parties involved to back down. I suspect if you were to arrive shortly, they would throw themselves on your mercy with gratitude.” He prodded the man at his feet with a toe, delicately. “Will that be all?”

“How many did you kill?” Fury asked, flatly. Loki’s mouth twitched again.

“Why, Director. Absolutely none. I know the rules. No permanent or visible damage.  It shall be as though I was never here.” He took a step back and cast a critical eye around the room, the personnel slumped over their keyboards.

“You enjoy this too much,” Fury said. Loki did not bother to hold back his smile.

“Ah, but isn’t my relative lack of scruples what makes me so useful to you?”

“Get out,” Fury snapped. “I’m sending in a team in ten. Don’t be there.”

“Your wish is my command,” Loki murmured pleasantly, and hung up. He took one last look around the facility, then stepped through space back to the front door of his flat. The door keyed open at his touch, protective spells dropping, and he closed it quietly behind him, almost humming. He set the kettle to boiling with a flick of his fingers, and paced over to the window to look out at his view.

This was not so bad. There was a certain kind of satisfaction in the work. It was what he was best at, after all – stealth. Persuasion. The ugly details Fury was unwilling to give to anyone else.  SHIELD might hold his leash, but they held it lightly. That was a gift that Loki recognized. It was not such a bad thing to have a little quiet, either.  He read, more than he’d had time to in years. He watched mortal television, which varied wildly from the asinine to the fascinating to the asinine that somehow managed to be fascinating nonetheless. He absorbed every scrap of knowledge he could find with a hunger that he’d thought had gone from him. And his flat had a fine view of Amsterdam.

And despite all his expectations, Thor had been entirely absent. Loki had more than half expected that despite all his bold promises, the oaf would not be able to avoid the temptation to interfere, to stick his nose into Loki’s life, profess his love, etcetera, etcetera. But he had not. Every so often Loki caught his name on the news, but as he promised, he kept his distance.

Every so often that gave Loki a pang that he ruthlessly ignored.

Turning away from the view, Loki set some water on to boil and had just settled in with a book when someone knocked on his door. For a moment, Loki frowned in its direction, stood carefully, and cast a small scrying to look in the hallway.

It was only Emma, though, one of his neighbors and a sweet girl, he supposed, fidgeting anxiously on his doormat. Loki exhaled quietly, irritated at his own paranoia, and strolled over to open the door.

He’d considered, briefly, using a glamour to disguise himself, but the idea irked him, and ultimately it seemed that the right charming smile, trimming his hair, and going about in plain clothes sufficed well enough. He chose to find that indicative of his own skill, rather than insulting.

“Hi,” said Emma as he opened the door, slightly breathlessly. “Sorry – I don’t want to bother you, but – I’m out of butter, and I was going to make some cookies, and…” she trailed off and laughed, fidgeting a little. “So I was just - do you have some butter that I can use?”

Loki gave her a smile and stepped back. “Of course. Step inside – how much do you need?”

“A half a stick should be plenty,” she said, stepping over the threshold. “Thank you, I hope it’s no trouble…”

“None at all,” Loki said smoothly, strolling over to the refrigerator. He could feel her staring. Loki knew very well why Emma chose to ask him for these little favors rather than the elderly woman who lived an equal distance from her door. He found it flattering enough to let it go on without discouraging her interest. He pulled out the butter and removed a knife from the magnetic rack he’d purchased to keep them organized, slicing the stick neatly in half. “Just for yourself, or…?”

“Just for – oh, the cookies.” He could almost hear her fidgeting anxiously and smiled at the counter. “Yes, just for me. Though if you wanted some…it’s molasses. I just found the recipe online, though, I don’t know if it’ll be any good…”

“I’m sure it’ll be delightful,” Loki said politely, and returned half the stick to the refrigerator, then returned and proffered the cut half with a little bow. Emma’s cheeks flushed the palest shade of pink.

“Thank you,” she said. He smiled at her and she swallowed a few times, and then nodded.

“You’re welcome,” he said, smoothly, and stepped back. Perhaps it was cruel to enjoy the small noise of protest she made. Likely it was. “If you wished to share them…by all means. I do have a bit of a sweet tooth.” He let the smile slide toward something a little toothier, and then felt just a bit bad when she gulped loudly.

“Sure,” she said, “Sure, right. I – have to go,” and did not quite scramble for the door.

“Have a pleasant afternoon,” Loki said lightly, to no response. He wondered, sometimes, if she would ever get around to saying something. He wasn’t entirely certain what he would do if she did. She was sweet enough, and fun to tease, but his desire for a relationship – even a purely physical one - was severely limited for a number of reasons.

For now, it was enough to have what SHIELD gave him.

Perhaps eventually it would not be, but he had a long time to consider that.

A long time, and room in which to do it.

* * *

When he first ran into one of the Avengers, it was entirely by accident. He was enjoying a plate of waffles, distracted by the novel he was currently reading, when he looked up at a loudly voiced, “you have _got_ to be shitting me.”

It was Stark. He was trailing a small entourage of what Loki suspected were hangers on, and he was wearing rather than his metal armor a slightly rumpled but nicely tailored suit.

It was probably, Loki thought regretfully, inevitable.

He raised his eyebrows at Stark, largely because he could and to see the man’s eyes widen a little, and then twisted himself back into his flat, feeling a perhaps inappropriate urge to laugh. He swallowed it and sent the first message to Fury.

_Ran into Stark. I advise you to expect panicked calls shortly._

He considered waiting in his apartment, but the idea of one of that motley band taking out a wall of his impeccably groomed living space if they tracked him to it made Loki wrinkle his nose. Besides, there was some appeal to simply getting the confrontation over with. He transported out of his room and into a park a few blocks away, where he settled on a bench and waited.

It was, predictably, Stark who arrived first. Armored in his metal skin and bristling with his weaponry.

“I hope you haven’t left your entourage disappointed,” Loki said smoothly. “They seemed quite eager for your attentions.”

“Okay, banter’s great,” said Stark in his mechanized voice. “Don’t get me wrong, I love it, maybe another time. But you just blew all my plans for the evening-”

“Oh, don’t stop yourself on my account,” Loki murmured. Stark raised his voice.

“—so wanna tell me what you’re doing here? Or, you know, even better, don’t, just run the fuck away, Scar, and never return-”

Loki (rather ostentatiously) inspected his nails. “Let me know,” he said placidly, “When you are done babbling.”

“Thor took you back to Asgard,” said Stark, flatly. Loki glanced up. He felt the strangest of feelings in his chest, like a peculiar lurching, _he lied? For me?_ Because even Thor would know that his shield companions would not welcome Loki’s presence. Even Thor would recognize that there might be a danger to Loki if his remaining were to become known. They had reasons for their grudges, of course, but that Thor, eternally honest Thor would think to lie to his friends to protect his prodigal brother-

_I wish to help you, brother, and I do want what is best for you._

Loki pushed it out of his mind. “Is that what he said?”

“Don’t try to pull that,” Stark said, and that sounded like anger, perhaps, though the mechanical modifier made it somewhat difficult. “You can’t turn us against each other, nice try but that only works once. So what’s your game, Loki, because I’m giving you one chance before-”

Loki did have to give one thing to Stark – he made an excellent distraction. Loki only just managed to get out of the way of the arrow that would have ended up in his kidney. He did not manage to get out of the way of its explosion and just managed to hit the ground in a roll.

“Ah,” said Loki with a smirk he didn’t entirely feel as he straightened, “So it’s a reunion. All of you, or are you just here to pick up Stark’s mess, hawkling?”

“Stand down or the next one goes in your eye.” Ah, Barton. Loki almost missed the man. Almost. He did give remarkably good massages. “Or, on second thought, don’t. I’d _really_ love to put one of these in your eye.”

That was as good as a _just us._ Well, at least that was a bit of luck.

“I wouldn’t push him,” Stark said. “I’m pretty sure he’s serious. So how about we just take this conversation elsewhere?”

Loki had half a mind to allow it, just to see the look on Fury’s face. However, he was far from sure that that scenario would end in anything but his untimely demise while his supposed employer lifted nary a finger to help. It did not seem beyond the realm of possibility. They were six and he one, no matter how useful. “I think not,” Loki said, smoothly regaining his feet and settling into a defensive position. “Tempting as the offer is.”

The arrow that came for his eye Loki caught and threw, not about to make the same mistake he had in the last battle. It exploded midair. With the other hand he deflected one of Stark’s blasts, though the force of it knocked him back a step.

He was missing the livestream of this week’s episode of _Dexter_.

“This can get a whole lot uglier or you can just,” Stark started to say. It was impressive posturing, truly, but this was beginning to grow tiresome.

He moved. _Flick_ and an illusion was right beside Barton and even as he turned to plunge a knife in its chest, Loki brushed a finger against the back of his neck and thought, _sleep._ His little hawk dropped like a stone.

“What the,” Stark said, hands up and about to fire, and this was even easier, simply sending out a pulse calibrated to interfere with the energy signature his magic could read from the metal man. The suit froze, lights flickering out.

Loki removed himself neatly from the situation.

Trying not to laugh as he pictured Fury’s face when he heard about this, Loki wondered when, if ever, humans would stop underestimating him.

An hour and some later, Loki received a text from Fury in the middle of _The Maltese Falcon_ ( _Dexter_ had already finished, and he would have to watch it later). It demanded to know how in hell he had disabled the Iron Man suit, the thing their tech department had been trying to work out for years, and Loki gave in to temptation and did laugh.

* * *

He watched the report on his reemergence in the news, stretched out on his couch and sipping a glass of fizzy water. Stark looked harried and slightly disheveled. Barton, he noted, did not make an appearance. His phone buzzed furiously and nearly continuously – every message from Fury.

_thought I told you to keep your head down_

_this is not keeping your head down_

_now I’ve got a delegation on my ass to send out a recon team_

Loki picked up his phone and called. “Go ahead and send them,” he said, the moment Fury picked up. “I promise I will not do them any permanent damage.”

“Can’t promise they won’t do _you_ some permanent damage,” Fury snapped. Loki laughed. “Luckily for _you_ I’ve claimed it’s out of SHIELD’s league and in the Avengers’ hands. So it’s just them you’re dealing with. For now. Unless you fuck up.”

“I remember.” Loki drummed his fingers on the arm of his couch. “I promise I will not do them any permanent damage either.” He paused, considering. “Did you tell Thor to inform his friends that he was taking me to Asgard with him?”

Fury’s momentary silence gave him his answer. The curt, “No,” only confirmed it. So that had been Thor’s idea, Thor’s deception, alone. The knot of feeling that tugged at ached like an old wound, and so he pushed it away.

“Hm,” he said. “Interesting."

“And if you start pulling in civilian casualties-”

“I recall our terms, Director,” Loki cut in smoothly. “I will manage this matter, as stated. Though I do wonder how long it will take them to determine your complicity.”

“You let me worry about that, and you worry about the band of superheroes who are going to be hunting you down.”

“Why, Director,” Loki said, lightly. “It’s like you care.”

Fury hung up on him.

Loki laughed and set the phone aside. He had a vague feeling that he ought to be more concerned, but at the moment he was just amused. There was no reason for them to assume that he was living here, or that he’d been loose for long. He almost found himself looking forward to playing this game. Trickery with a little edge of danger; that was something he’d always enjoyed.

Well, he might as well start now.

Standing up and turning off the TV, Loki cracked his knuckles, and then paused.

If they reached out to Thor, the thought flitted into his mind, would Thor’s promise not to interfere in his business reach that far? He’d hidden himself from Heimdall – more out of reflex than anything else – but there was a better chance of Thor being able to find him than any of the others.

Loki pushed that thought aside. If it came to that…if it came to that, he would deal with it.

Somehow. Preferably before the green creature smashed him into concrete again.

Where to send them first, however?

Somewhere cold, he decided. Unpleasant.

Ah. He had just the thing.

* * *

The media went wild speculating why the Avengers would journey to a remote village in Norway for no apparent reason. Loki noted the disgruntled expressions in press photographs with a certain degree of pleasure.

Loki kept a close ear on SHIELD’s communications lines. He wasn’t certain if Fury knew he could do that and just pretended not to, or was genuinely unaware, but either way it was useful for a number of reasons. Apparently it was all they could do to keep the rumors of Loki-sightings on the down-low.

For his part, Loki let the Avengers chase him from Recife to a nice modern art museum in Kyoto. A brief appearance, a working that kept him unnoticed by passersby but left him visible to cameras, and within hours they came haring after him like a cloud of gaudily dressed locusts.

Thor was sometimes with them, sometimes not, he noticed. When he was, Loki found himself lingering, waiting for the Avengers to arrive, examining Thor’s face until he caught himself doing so and left in a rush.

But Thor, it seemed, had told the Avengers nothing.

Fury was a little less pleased with his globetrotting, however.

“I told you to take care of the problem,” Fury said, sounding more irritated than usual. “Not to play games with my best superhero team. You’re driving them crazy. And wasting their time.”

“I would not be,” Loki said lightly, “if they would learn not to go chasing shadows. I’m sure they’ll realize eventually that I am toying with them, and give up.”

“You don’t know these folks,” Fury said. “They’re not the giving up types. Or maybe you should know that, considering-”

Loki felt himself bristle and made himself answer smoothly. “Then they will withdraw, at least, until they work out new tactics.”

“All that’ll do is delay the inevitable blowout,” Fury growled. “Work out some way to make them think they got rid of you. Scared you off, whatever.” Loki frowned, and considered objecting that he was not _frightened_ of that motley band of misfits, but decided against it.

“Are you suggesting that I stage a massive, destructive battle with them and let them think they’ve chased me away?” He asked. Silence, for several long moments. Loki tapped his fingers on the counter. “Ah,” he said. “You might have said so in the first place.”

“If I didn’t know better I’d think you were enjoying this,” Fury said.

“Are you certain you know better?” Loki asked, almost cheerfully, and Fury made an inarticulate growling noise. “Very well, very well. And no civilian casualties. I’m sure I can work something out.”

“There’s a job for you when you finish that,” Fury said, after a moment. “AIM’s gone underground again, and I’d like you to figure out where. And try to keep the damages under a hundred million, I’ve already got bureaucrats coming out my ass about the impact of superhero fights on NYC’s infrastructure.”

“There is a lovely and appealing image,” Loki murmured, trying to keep his mouth from twitching. “If you’d like me to pay _them_ a visit-”

“No, thanks. Just – deal with your Avenger buddies. Keep me in the loop.”

“I’m sure you won’t be able to miss it.” Loki cast a glance at the clock and summoned his armor. “Always a pleasure working with you, Director.”

“Just get the fucking job done,” Fury said, and hung up.

* * *

Loki chose Las Vegas for the site of his Climactic Battle, and began it by shutting off every electronic system in downtown, settling himself on the mock-Eiffel Tower and launching into a rather inspired, if he might say so himself, speech on the foolishness of humanity and the inevitability of their ultimate subjugation.

He hoped someone was recording. He would _love_ to watch the YouTube video of it later.

Stark turned up first, again, and began by firing one of his repulsors at Loki’s chest. He dodged it easily, mentally calculating the damage as it went through part of the Eiffel Tower instead, and hoped Fury didn’t mind a few more bureaucrats in his nethers.

“This is the first time you’ve stuck around long enough for us to show up,” Stark called. “And it is _us_ this time, we’re rolling out the whole welcoming party. Want to back down now?”

“Why would I _ever,_ ” Loki said, summoning perfect disdain and a touch of harsher contempt, “when I can have the satisfaction of watching you plummet into cement?”

“Is this the EMP trick again, because that’s not going to – ah, shit,” Stark said, as metal creaked, ice forming in the joints. Loki smiled at him, but just before the ice coated that central mechanism a blast of energy hit him in the shoulder and sent him flying off his carefully chosen perch.

He should have gone straight for the control mechanism, Loki thought, hauling himself out of cracked cement. Dramatic timing. Always his weakness.

At least Stark was plummeting now, though, struggling to stay airborne. For a moment Loki was almost concerned that he might permanently damage Stark – he suspected Fury would not approve of that, and that sounded like more trouble than it was worth – but sure enough there was the green beast leaping to snatch him out of the air.

“This is your last chance to surrender, Loki!” the Captain called. “If you come quietly-”

Loki threw a knife at his head.

And then battle was joined, a round shield whizzing for his head as he whirled between arrows, unable to keep from laughing. He sent the Hulk chasing after an illusion while he kept the others busy. The Captain got too close and Loki threw him through a wall; turning around he nearly had part of his face blown off by a shot from the Widow. It was an interesting challenge, keeping the battle contained, redirecting blasts to avoid fleeing civilians. Looking at it like a puzzle, he could almost enjoy it.

At least, until he started to lose.

He’d always intended to, of course – that was part of the idea, to convince them that he’d gone running off to lick his wounds – but it seemed the Avengers were not interested in indulging his vanity and allowing him to have a short period of victory before he _chose_ to throw the fight. The Captain distracted him with an absurd attempt at close-range fighting that he ought to have seen through, and that followed by a smoke arrow from his hawk and a concentrated blast to his back by Iron Man’s repulsors dazed him just enough that he lost control of the secondary illusion that kept the Hulk away.

The tide turned rather rapidly with that.

His only relief was that Thor appeared to be elsewhere.

He fled the field rather rapidly, landing in a heap on his floor in a mess of concrete dust and blood, and growled at nothing in particular in ferocious exasperation. He would need to work out an effective way to deal with that creature sooner or later. If he could trap him in his mortal form…

At any rate, he consoled himself, there should not be any trouble with the Avengers thinking he had not been thoroughly beaten and run off with his tail between his legs, as he _had._ Just not as far as they would probably prefer.

Loki dragged himself to the bathroom for a hot shower and flopped onto the couch with _Jonathan Strange & Mr. Norrell_, only to be interrupted by his phone. Loki was somewhat glad he’d thought to store that elsewhere than on his person.

“Nice performance,” Fury said. He sounded as though he might, almost, be amused. Loki took a breath through his teeth and reminded himself that it would be rude to hex him over the phone. Next time they met in person, however, Loki considered vividly a particularly nasty spell that would leave Fury entirely without genitals until Loki chose to return them.

“Thank you,” Loki said primly. “And are they convinced?”

“Not Hawkeye, but everyone seems to be mostly pinning that on paranoia,” Fury said. The more fools they, Loki thought absently. “The rest? Not permanently, but they think it’ll be a while. Pretty convincing beating you took, there.”

Loki bared his teeth. “Don’t push it, Director. I was doing _you_ a favor.”

“You were doing you a favor,” Fury said, but he sounded a little less pleased with himself. Loki reminded himself that he would be alive and well long after the entirety of SHIELD’s staff was long dead. If all went well, it might not even be so very long.

That struck him as…vaguely ungrateful, however.

“Now then,” Loki said, deciding a change in subject was in order. “What was it about AIM you wanted me to investigate?" 

* * *

It turned out that AIM was conducting research on a weapon that SHIELD did not wish them to have – something concerning antimatter, and that at least was interesting – and which they intended to sell to some other organization with a convenient acronym. It was child’s play, really.

“I almost think you’re giving me busywork,” Loki had remarked. “Worried about what happens if I get bored?”

Fury had muttered something under his breath and hung up. It seemed to be his version of getting the last word. Loki went to Berlin in a fairly good mood.

He realized that he was being followed quickly, of course. Furthermore, he suspected this particular individual wanted him to know that she was following him. He let her continue doing so for another half hour before he paused.

“You may come out now,” he urged, keeping his eyes forward. “Unless you would rather keep tagging along in the shadows?” He did turn, then. “But I think it’s time we had a conversation.”

The Black Widow emerged after a few moments. Her expression was ferociously neutral. “I’m not here for conversation,” she said.

“What are you here for?” Loki asked, head cocked to the side.

“Originally? AIM.” Unease flickered – had Fury sent her in, knowing that – but she seemed to notice and added, “not for SHIELD. I’m doing my own research.”

“Your own research,” Loki prompted, curious, but she just gave him a look, so he let it go. “You haven’t asked what _I_ am doing here.”

“No,” she said. “I haven’t. I wouldn’t be a very good spy if I hadn’t figured that out already.”

Loki raised his eyebrows. “And?” He was surprised, he had to admit, that she hadn’t gone immediately for her weapons. It was what he would have done, in her position. He was not going to make the mistake of thinking that it meant that she was relaxed, however. This one he had underestimated before, and he was less than inclined to do so again.

“I thought it was you,” the spider said coldly. Loki flashed her a grin.

“In the flesh.”

“New agent with the classified identity. Fury’s aggressive silence on the subject. Also, Thor’s a terrible liar.”

“You noticed,” Loki drawled. The Widow seemed less than amused. “When did you work it out?”

“Pretty quickly. I had a guess Fury was going to try to make some kind of arrangement.”

Loki quirked his eyebrows at her. “And yet you said nothing. I doubt Barton would be pleased by your discretion.”

“I work for SHIELD,” she deadpanned. “Not for him.”

“He spoke of you a great deal, you know.” Loki smiled indulgently at her. “Almost with adoration. Reverence.” At that the Widow, who had been scanning her surroundings, turned to look at him.

“I work for SHIELD,” she said, her voice low and her eyes viciously fierce. “But that doesn’t mean I won’t see to it you die slowly and painfully if you _ever_ touch Clint again. Don’t push it.”

Loki gave her his best dazzling smile. “I may have to, if I wish to prevent SHIELD’s disadvantageous loss of a valuable weapon.”

“It comes down to that,” she said, “I suggest you take the arrow through the skull. It’ll probably hurt less than what _I’d_ do.” She turned on her heel and stalked away. He let her go, almost charmed.

* * *

He considered delaying action until he was sure Romanova was no longer watching, and ultimately decided that she could if she liked. Whatever reason she had for keeping his secret, he suspected she would continue to do so unless otherwise provoked. He was, after all, here on Fury’s slightly less than politely worded request.

Loki flitted into the hideaway AIM had built itself, stole the prototype, melted down the rest of the research, crashed their computers for good measure, and flitted out. They were not, of course, ready for him. The whole thing left him feeling vaguely unsatisfied, though he couldn’t have said why.

He settled down on a bench in a comfortable, grassy park and produced the weapon from where he had stored it. It did not particularly look like a weapon, though Loki supposed neither did the Casket of Ancient Winters or the Bifrost. He turned it over in his hands. Fury had deliberately given him very little information on the object, but Loki had always been capable of doing his own research.

True annihilation of matter was impossible. The first rule a mage learned. And yet apparently…they had not managed it yet, but this was, at least, a prototype.

Loki considered the object between his hands. He could think of any number of uses for something like this. Even the threat of it would be no doubt highly effective. And here it was in his hands. Incomplete, but Loki had enough confidence in his skills to think that if a few mortal scientists had begun puzzling it out, he could finish it.

 _What would you do, though?_ Asked a small, nagging voice that sounded a little like Thor. _What would be the point of it?_

He sent the prototype away and sent Fury a quick text message telling him that he had destroyed everything and, of course, left no trace of himself. _I trust you will approve,_ he wrote without thinking, and then quickly deleted it, a little disturbed.

Loki wondered suddenly where Thor was, and what he was doing. What did he occupy himself with without his errant false brother to keep in line? Thinking of him ached, as it always did, but he held onto the thought a little longer. Dallying with his mortal, perhaps. Fighting other foes that saw fit to trouble the Earth. What would Thor think of his actions? Would he find them dishonorable, as he had Loki’s _tricks_ before? Or would he merely appreciate that Loki was aiding mortals instead of killing them?

( _It doesn’t matter. At last, at last you are free of Thor and all you can think of, foolish creature, is your old ball and chain._ )

And Asgard? What of Frigga, or what of-

Loki cut off his thoughts and stood up. He had no wish to go back to Asgard, and no care for anyone there.

 _Or are you afraid,_ the thought crossed his mind, _of what might follow you there?_

His back twinged. Loki pressed his lips together and a moment later vanished from the bench, as though he’d never been there at all.


	3. Chapter 3

Loki’s mouth spasmed as he regarded the cards in front of him. “Ah…go fish,” he said, cautiously, after a moment. To his right, Inge giggled. Emma looked like she wanted to melt through the floor.

He had agreed to this because when Emma had approached him, cheeks bright red and mumbling something about ‘having a small get-together with some friends and you could come if you wanted’ it sounded like too much of an amusing opportunity to pass up. He picked up his glass – an ‘appletini’, apparently – in one hand and took another sip to disguise his faint frown. This was not exactly what he had imagined.

“Inge,” said Sten, who was draped over her lap in such a way that Loki thought it extremely improbable that he hadn’t seen her cards. “Do you have any fours?”

“Dammit!” Inge shuffled three cards out of her hand and shoved them in Sten’s direction, sticking her lower lip out. “You’re picking on me.”

Emma’s eyes flicked to him and then away. “Guys,” she said, sounding even more embarrassed. Loki took no particular pleasure in it. It did not seem to be the kind of flustered demeanor he enjoyed cultivating in her; something more akin to a feeling a bit closer to home.

Loki swallowed the rest of his appletini (absurd drink, really, though it wasn’t _bad_ ) and stood up. “Would anyone else like something more to drink?”

“I’ll take another beer,” Sten said. Inge wrinkled her nose.

“Can you mix a margarita?”

 _I can,_ Loki thought privately. _Whether I will, however…_

“Uh – _guys,_ ” Emma said, almost scrambling to her feet. “Don’t worry about it, I can get – what would you-”

Loki gave her a small smile and lowered his voice just slightly to slip into a different register, though he kept it carefully moderated. “I would not necessarily refuse an extra pair of hands.” Emma flushed, staring up at him blankly for a moment. Out of the corner of his eye, Loki caught a small frown on Inge’s face. “I’m sure we can resume the game in a few moments, hm?”

“Yeah,” Inge said, though she sounded a touch less pleased. “Sure.”

Loki waited to stroll towards the kitchen until Emma went, and then followed her, sliding his hands into the pockets of his trousers. As soon as they were around the corner, Emma gave him a look that was almost accusatory, her eyes narrowing.

“What are you playing at?” she said, but under her breath. Loki blinked innocently at her.

“Playing at?”

“Um.” Emma’s face went a little pinker. “You’re not…” she trailed off, glancing past him into the living room. “…right.” She walked over to the counter and began pouring out the drinks, fumbling a little. “Has anyone ever told you you’re a little weird?”

“More than you would guess.” Loki glanced toward the sitting room and threw up a sound barrier, then lowered his voice to the degree that he hoped it would be believable for Inge and Sten not to hear. “Why are you friends with them?”

Emma looked sharply around at him. “What do you mean?” she said, with a little bit of hostility. Probably, Loki thought, he could have phrased that more delicately.

“They do not seem to treat you well,” Loki said, a little more carefully. Emma turned back to the drinks, looking almost offended.

“They’re good people,” she said, sounding peeved. “And they’re my friends.” Loki eyed her back, surprised at the vehemence in her voice. She did seem to believe it, at least. And was undoubtedly irritated by his insult to people she…apparently liked.

Instinct told him to drop the subject, but Loki cocked his head and instead said, “They were laughing at you.”

“Yeah,” Emma said, setting the tequila down with a loud _thunk._ “They tease. Like friends do.” Loki was glad that he’d put up the sound barrier as her voice rose slightly. “You know it was Inge who suggested I invite you over when I mentioned that you didn’t seem to have any friends?” Loki felt himself twitch and his expression flattened. _It’s not untrue, though. It never was._ “—sorry,” Emma said, turning. “I didn’t mean-”

Loki shrugged. “Your point is taken.” He dropped the sound barrier and went to the refrigerator to grab a beer for Sten before turning to leave the kitchen.

“Wait – Neil-” It took Loki a moment to recall that that was the name he had given, and then he paused. “I didn’t mean that-”

Loki gave her a cool smile. “Don’t fret, Emma. I know you meant no offense.” He padded back into the sitting room. Inge was watching him with narrowed eyes, but though he looked he could not see pity there. He extended the beer to Sten and took his seat again.

“No drink for you?” Inge asked.

“I changed my mind,” Loki said, picking up his cards as Emma came back as well. He avoided her attempts to catch his eye. “Whose turn was it?” Inge was watching him closely now, not quite staring, and Loki felt a faint prickle between his shoulder-blades. She took her drink and set it absently aside.

“So, Neil,” she said suddenly. “Where’re you from?”

Loki had the sudden, absurd thought that she was a spy. Or that she knew. He brushed it aside. “I was born in the UK,” he said, leaning back. “But I’ve been a bit of everywhere since then.”

“How long are you planning to stay here?”

Loki hummed. “I hadn’t come to any definite decision as yet. As long as I do not get restless, I suppose.” He’d considered moving, after running into the Avengers, but the hassle involved – along with the unlikeliness of their finding him in a single flat in a sizeable city – had deterred him from that course.

“And what do you do?” Inge asked, propping her chin on her hand. “I mean, for work – or hobbies, whatever, Emma seems to think you just stay in your room all day…”

“Inge!” Emma said. Loki felt a little prickle of annoyance down his spine, and then suddenly wondered if she was evaluating him as he’d been evaluating her. Seeing if he was a threat to her friend.

Loki summoned a slender smile, though it felt strained. “Is this a conversation or an interrogation?”

“Little bit of both,” Inge said, casually, though her sweet smile had a little bit of sharpness to it. Sten leaned over and tapped her shoulder.

“Whoa there, Nancy Drew. Getting a little intense.”

“Yeah,” Emma said, glancing at him, and she looked a little nervous. “Do you guys want to get back to the game?” Loki’s skin felt prickly and tense. He wanted to leave, suddenly, but doing so would be far too conspicuous. Why had he agreed to this? Not, Loki thought, a mistake he would make again.

Loki shuffled his cards together. “Actually,” he said. “I think I’d like to try something a little more stimulating. How about a game of blackjack?”

It was petty, but he took some small satisfaction out of trouncing them all at that and the next two poker variations they played. Inge’s silent appraisal grated on his nerves, though he could not have said why, and he left in a poor mood before it was very late.

As he settled into bed, irritation fading into unhappiness, all he could think was _I shouldn’t have gone._

_You’re not one of them. You don’t even want to be. Why did you bother?_

* * *

Emma knocked on his door the next day, and Loki ignored her. He listened to her shuffle around in front of the door for several minutes, and then leave.

He followed suit, fleeing the apartment in favor of the art museum, suggested that the guards ignore him as he sat in an inconspicuous corner, and tried to think.

By rights, it should not trouble him at all. Inge and Sten’s evaluations were insignificant, and Emma’s as well, so long as he remained Neil, her rather odd neighbor – which he could easily do. Emma was his mortal neighbor, and the others her mortal friends, little more than an alibi and another layer to his disguise, keeping him inconspicuous.

It would have been a simple matter to lie, to tell Inge whatever she wished to hear, to let Emma’s friends tease and mock her as they pleased, to play their games and then move on to his own affairs having gone through the motions of social interaction.

But it had _bothered_ him. First the teasing – and that was simple enough, though in retrospect foolish. Why bother defending Emma? If she had needed it she might have done it herself.

(As you learned to do for yourself?)

And as to Inge’s questions – why should it trouble him what she thought of him? She didn’t matter. Whatever she thought he was, it was hardly relevant. No true concern of his. Loki had his goals, and she did not come into them.

He hadn’t come to Midgard to make _friends._ In fact, this time around, he hadn’t even intended to come to Midgard in the first place. This was all peripheral. A matter of self-preservation and convenience, and perhaps a touch of entertainment. No more.

His thoughts clarified, Loki returned to his apartment the long way, only to find that Emma was knocking at his door again. He stopped midway down the hall, the thought briefly occurring to him to retreat again.

 _Peripheral,_ he reminded himself.

He cleared his throat and she jumped, turning. “Emma,” he said. Polite, distant.

“Neil,” she said, looking startled. Her hands knotted together. “Um, glad I caught you. Were you – never mind. I wanted to say I was sorry. About last night? You left seeming a little…” She trailed off. Loki smiled at her, the one he’d acquired for court matters. Not quite false enough to offend.

“Do not think on it.” He took a step toward her, and his door. “If you would excuse me…”

Emma backed off, though she didn’t seem to be done. “Inge wanted to – she said she felt a little bit like a tool, after. She’s just – protective, you know? And I just wanted to make sure-”

“Your concern is appreciated,” Loki said coolly. “But I took no offense. You do, after all, know hardly anything about me.”

“Well, no,” Emma said, and then scrambled to add, “Not that that’s a bad thing, necessarily! But anyway, what I was getting at was – if you wanted to come over sometime again, or go out somewhere, the two of us…” Her fingers tangled together. “I’d like that. Maybe. If you wanted.”

Loki looked at her, surprised that she’d actually asked. And she did seem to be asking. She found him _intriguing._ Attractive, certainly. She thought she wished to know him better. She thought she wanted him in her bed.

Loki smiled. It felt a little barbed. “The offer is lovely. But I’m afraid I must decline.” He unlocked his door and opened it. “Perhaps you would do better to find someone a bit more acceptable to your friends.”

He closed the door quietly on her crestfallen face and felt no satisfaction whatever.

 _What are you trying to accomplish here?_ He asked himself, hand lingering on the doorknob. “That is the question, isn’t it,” he murmured to himself, and had to laugh.

He wondered where Thor was. What he was doing right now. What he’d thought about the fight Loki had staged. Loki padded over to his couch and flung himself onto it. Perhaps he was on Asgard. Perhaps there was trouble in Asgard.

He pushed thoughts of Thor out of his head, but it felt more like a habit than a necessity. Thinking about him didn’t sting in quite the way it had before. It was more of a dull ache, now; a bruise rather than an open wound.

Loki remembered the question that had led him to this. _What do you want, Loki Laufeyson?_

It occurred to him that he still didn’t know.

Almost, he wished that he had not sent Emma away.

* * *

The Wrecking Crew – an abysmal name, really – was attacking Minneapolis. Privately, Loki thought that Minneapolis might deserve it, but apparently the Avengers disagreed. He settled into his couch with a blanket and a mug of hot cocoa to watch the show as soon as he heard.

His eyes flashed almost immediately to the red cape and flashing lightning. So Thor was there this time, Loki thought. Not on Asgard, it would seem. Doing his part for the Midgardians. Loki stretched his legs out across the couch and watched Iron Man go flying as one of the attackers hit him with a massive flail. Loki lifted his mug in a long distance toast, unable to keep himself from smirking a little. The newscaster was going on about the origins of this latest supervillain menace, commenting now and again on the maneuvers of either side.

Loki’s eyes flicked to the others, but they stayed on Thor. He hadn’t seen him closer than this since…

He looked splendid, of course. Far greater than the mortals he chose to surround himself with – though, it occurred to Loki, perhaps that was the point. Perhaps that was why Thor had let go of him; he had others to take that role, now, of enhancing his greatness by living in his shadow. He wondered if the mortals were aware of it.

But no, that was not so. He _liked_ them. Cared about them. Thought them brave and honorable. (Everything he had never been.)

Loki refocused on the battle. Thor was wrestling with one of the Crew the ticker tape identified as Dirk Garthwaite, or “Wrecker.” The camera zoomed in as Thor threw the man to the ground and thrust out his hand to call Mjolnir.

Loki glanced aside for a moment to take a sip of his cocoa, and then heard a loud gasp from the newscaster. “—it looks like Thor is down, I repeat, Thor is-”

He didn’t register the crash of breaking ceramics as he leapt to his feet, taking a stride nearer the TV, alarm leaping up in his chest. “What happened,” he hissed, as the newscaster babbled something about evacuation orders for downtown. “What _happened,_ show him to me-”

The camera wobbled, and then steadied. He caught a flash of red and for a split second the camera swung to catch Thor prying himself out of the wreckage of a building. He stumbled slightly, and Dirk Garthwaite and one of his _miserable_ companions were running in his direction.

Loki blinked out of existence and reappeared in downtown Minneapolis, safely invisible. He could hear the fighting a few blocks away and teleported again to go there, his heart thudding rapidly, no longer thinking at all.

He burst around the corner just in time to see Thor drop Mjolnir on the downed Drik Garthwaite’s chest and turn to take on his companion with a grin, almost entirely unscathed. Perfectly fine. Of course.

The panic didn’t subside so quickly though, and he felt frozen, suddenly, standing here invisible and watching Thor fight, full of the joy of battle. He looked satisfied. Well he might, Loki thought a touch bitterly. This was all he’d ever needed.

The thought felt hollow, though. Thor ducked the ball swinging at his head and simply tackled the second attacker, seeming to decide that fists were an adequate method for this one. Loki’s eyes flicked to Dirk Garthwaite, still struggling to budge Mjolnir off his chest. Loki could have told him that was pointless.

He checked on Thor once more, feeling a peculiar pang in his chest, and then crept quietly over and crouched beside this man who had dubbed himself “Wrecker.” “Hello,” he said, pleasantly. “I doubt you will recognize my voice, and it is not terribly important. I am merely here to inform you that should you attack Thor again, I will find you, and I will make you watch while I decorate your walls with entrails. Is that sufficiently clear?”

The man’s throat bobbed, and his struggles intensified. “Who the hell are you,” he said, head turning from side to side.

“This is your only warning,” Loki said pleasantly, and withdrew. The battle seemed to be over, and against his better judgment he drifted over to where he could hear the Avengers talking, and Thor’s booming laugh.

“—worried about you for a minute there, Thunderstruck,” Stark was saying. “Don’t freak Cap out like that. His heart can’t take it.”

Thor laughed heartily, his smile broad, and flung his arm around the Captain’s shoulder. “And by that I think you mean your heart, Tony Stark.”

“Who, me? Everyone knows I don’t have a heart,” Stark said.

“Doesn’t Pepper have a plaque saying you’re wrong about that?” The hawk said, limping a little and leaning heavily on his spider. Thor’s eyes shot to them both.

“My friend! You are injured!”

“Aw, Thor, it’s nothing…”

“You want to carry him back to the med bay?” Agent Romanova quipped. “He’s getting heavy.”

“Don’t you dare,” Barton squawked, and Thor laughed again. Loki stepped back around the corner and leaned back, trying to close his ears, but that familiar sound that had been so much of his childhood echoed in his head. His throat felt tight.

He _missed_ Thor, damn him. Missed fighting with him, laughing with him, _being_ with him. For all of…everything, he wanted Thor back. Things would just be _better_ if…

But they wouldn’t, would they? Everything would be just the same as it always had been. And he couldn’t go back. Wishes were nothing.

 _If you spoke to him,_ murmured a small voice in Loki’s head, _he would not turn you away._

He teleported himself away, not even to somewhere in particular just _not here,_ and wound up knee deep in snow, Thor’s deep laugh still ringing in his ears.

 _You are a weak, pathetic, sniveling little wretch,_ he thought viciously to himself. He had turned his back on Thor and yet it seemed he _couldn’t_ turn his back on Thor. He went running at the first sign that Thor might need help, as though Thor did not have his _new_ friends to look after him. He thought of him all too often, wondering what Thor would think of his new path. If he would think it dishonorable and cowardly.

Or if he might approve of Loki using his skills on behalf of Midgard, just as Thor had done.

No matter what he did, Loki thought with some despair, he was never going to get away from Thor. But, he reminded himself ruthlessly, he was never going back to him, either. They were not brothers. Nothing lingered to tie them together. He doubted Thor missed the burden of his presence. Had he not seemed contented enough with his new fellows?

Loki had his own life now. (Do you?)

He didn’t need Thor in it. (Don’t you?)

* * *

Loki drank through his stash of wine until his head fuzzed, and then crawled into bed. His thoughts were still like a snarl of yarn that a kitten had gotten into, but picking at them was doing no good. It was only bringing up old, pointless memories. Making him maudlin.

Making him think of that last conversation, when Thor had offered him a choice and it had felt terrifyingly like his last lifeline had suddenly gone slack, because if he did not have Thor as a touchstone then what _did_ he have?

He dreamed he was falling again. At first he didn’t realize it, because nothing seemed to change, but then he realized and the fear set in, paralyzing and terrible. He couldn’t breathe, his lungs struggling to inflate in a Void with no air. He was going to die.

But he didn’t. Just fell, and fell, and when he landed it was in the prison in Asgard, their filthy hands on his arms and chest and face, hauling him toward the portal as he fought desperately because anything, _anything_ Asgard could do would be better than their punishment. He saw Thor burst through the door and stop dead, and felt a surge of strength. Then Frigga was there as well, and Odin, all of them watching him in silence. Expressionless.

The Chitauri paused. “Please!” he cried. “Help me!”

Odin turned away first. Then Frigga. Then Thor. “This is what you deserve,” Thor rumbled. “At least go to it with pride.”

Then the portal was sucking him under, and Loki was spread-eagled on his stomach, stretched out until his shoulders were aching from the strain, feeling them peel open his back like a ripe orange and he panted, unable to draw a full breath, unable to scream as his nerves sang with agony that crept into every part of him, devouring him whole and he could hear Thor laughing, laughing, laughing.

His face loomed in his vision, suddenly, great and terrible. He could almost feel massive fingers around his throat.

 _You think you can hide,_ his voice roared, like a tidal wave quivering through him. Loki couldn’t look away. _You think you can escape me. You little crawling creature. I will find you. And I will not disgrace Death by giving such as you to her._

Loki jerked upright, panting. He took a long, slow breath. _Pain,_ he remembered, pain that became his whole world, devouring him, screams breaking as they pulled him apart and oblivion refused to come.

 _I am not weak,_ he told himself viciously. _And I will not – I will never –_

His eyes stung. He did not blink. If he did not blink, the tears (of shame, of humiliation) would stay in his eyes.

 _They will come again,_ said the treacherous whisper at the back of his mind. _For this world. And they will take you with it. Take you and see you so wholly undone that you will never find your way back, mind utterly broken._

He rolled out of bed and stood, jerkily. He could feel his limbs trying to tremble and held them rigidly still. “I am not weak,” he said aloud, but his voice sounded feeble, like a child singing in the dark.

But he was not alone, either. These humans had said they would give him protection, in exchange for what he was doing-

_(And you think they can stand against him? Do you truly think they will bother to try? Faced with his might, do you not think they will give you up at once in the futile hope of sparing themselves?)_

He took a deep breath through his nose and let it out slowly. Nightmares. That was all, nothing more.

He did not go back to sleep.


	4. Chapter 4

Probably, Loki thought, he ought to have moved. This when he woke up with an arrow in his face and the familiar sound of Stark’s weapons.

“Breaking and entering is a crime, you know,” he said.

“I don’t think I’m even going to bother coming up with a comeback for that.” Stark sounded royally displeased, even in his mechanized skin. “Don’t think about trying anything. Bruce is right here and the Jolly Green Giant is just dying to see you again.”

“Leaping immediately to threats?” Loki propped himself on his elbows, affecting no mind for the arrow uncomfortably close to his eye. “I’m disappointed.”

“Yeah, well, this has all been very fun – oh wait, no it hasn’t-”

“Whose apartment is this?” Captain America demanded. Oh, so it was all of them. Well, he thought, not Thor. He would not have been quiet. “Where’s the owner?”

“I ate him,” Loki drawled, and at the silence that followed, added, “don’t be absurd. It is mine.”

“Yours!” There was his hawk, with a bark of laughter. “Who did you steal it from?”

“I bought it, you impertinent little cretin,” Loki said, a little bit of irritation slipping through. “The lease is on file if you wish to check.” The arrow in front of his face shifted with the creak of a bowstring.

“Might want to watch it,” Barton said in a steely voice. “My arm is getting tired.”

“Have you just been on Earth this whole time?” Stark asked, sounding both incredulous and indignant. “Living in an apartment? In _Amsterdam?_ Hold on – hold on, when I ran into you that one time-”

Loki smiled thinly. Stark swore, and the Captain took a step forward. “What are you doing?” He demanded. “What are your plans, why are you here?”

“That’s a rather difficult question to answer,” Loki murmured. This was not how he’d intended to spend his night. And he was not terribly pleased that this was how it was turning out. “And a bit of a story, really. Would you mind terribly calling off your trained bird?”

He caught the spasm of his hawk’s face. “Don’t push me,” he said through gritted teeth. Loki gave him a placid smile. “One wrong move and I _will_ pin your head to the mattress.” He could see the spider as well, lurking a little back and watching the proceedings. Saying, he noted, nothing.

“How _did_ you find me?” He had to ask. Stark seemed to perk up slightly.

“Magic’s trackable like any other energy signature. I just had to figure out the right signature.”

That was going to make everything rather more difficult and unpleasant. Loki considered just teleporting himself away, but they would just follow him until he could figure out a way to interrupt their new tracking abilities, and who knew how long that would take? “How very disappointing,” he said eventually. Barton shifted.

“Something’s not right here,” he said harshly.

“No,” the Captain agreed. “Something’s strange about all of this. What’s your game, Loki? If you tell us now-”

“You’ll what,” Loki said, raising his eyebrows, “give me a slightly nicer cage? I think not. My intentions are my own.”

“Yeah,” said Stark, “you know, somehow I’m not surprised that you’d-”

His phone started to ring, vibrating against the wood of his bedside table. They all looked at it as though it were a poisonous snake. “May I?” Loki asked, acidly politely.

“Who the _fuck’s_ calling you,” his hawk snapped, and released his bow to snatch the phone and put it to his ear. “Who is th-”

“Goddammit,” Loki heard, from his phone. “Is this Barton?” He would know that belligerent voice anywhere.

“Director?” Clint sounded incredulous, pulling the phone from his ear and putting it on speaker. Excepting the Widow, the rest looked equally so.

“Motherfucking-” Oh, it was refreshing to hear that tone of voice directed at someone not him. Just a bit. “Yes, Barton, and I’d like to hear a damn good explanation as to-”

“He wants an explanation from _us?_ ” Stark said, and Loki tried very hard not to laugh. “You’ve got to be kidding me - hold on. Hold on, this has got to be a trick-”

“Put the god on the phone, Barton.”

“Sir-”

“ _Now."_  

Loki plucked the phone from Clint’s dumbly proffered hand, turned off speaker, and set it to his ear. The arrow was back at his face in moments. “Yes?”

“Please tell me you’re having a birthday party and that’s why Barton is there with you.”

“Not just him,” Loki murmured. “The entire delightful company. But I doubt that’s why you called.” Fury swore under his breath. Loki could not quite blame him. He wondered how the one-eyed man intended to escape this snare of his own making.

Provided he did not end this night imprisoned or on the run again, that would be something he would like to see.

“No. It’s not.”

“Nonetheless, they _did_ break into my flat. May I be compensated for resultant damages?”

 “Don’t push it.” A momentary pause, and then, grudging as ever, “I was going to call you in. A situation’s arisen that could use your expertise."

“Mmm. Sounds…troubling. However, as you may have noticed, I have a bit of a _situation_ of my own that may make that somewhat difficult.” He affected complete and careless ignorance of the five hostile stares directed at him. Silence, for a few moments. He could practically hear Fury struggling, and revised his estimate of what he was going to be asked to do slightly upward on the difficulty scale.

“—give the phone to Rogers,” he said, finally. “Give me five minutes and then-” Fury swore, though it sounded as though he did not intend to be heard doing so. “—then I’ll authorize the use of non-lethal – _non-lethal_ and _non-permanent_ – force so you can get here.”

Urgent, then, Loki thought, and felt a sudden squirm of anxiety turn his stomach. _It’s him,_ murmured a panicked thought at the back of his mind, and he pushed it down hard and lowered the phone. “Your Captain has been requested,” he said mildly. His hawkling snarled.

“You’ve got to be-”

“Clint,” and there he was. “Whatever’s going on…” he didn’t finish the sentence, but reached out a hand. Loki held out the phone and let him take it before reclining back comfortably. Five minutes.

“Sir,” said the soldier, and then stopped, abruptly. Interrupted, Loki thought, and wished he could hear what Fury was saying. “All due respect,” he said eventually, “Are you sure-” And cut off again. Loki deliberately kept his mouth from twitching.

“I call funny business,” said Stark’s mechanically modified voice. “ _Serious_ funny business.”

“I’m afraid I can’t-” the soldier was starting to sound downright belligerent. Loki let his eyes close and waited. Four minutes. “Right. Fine. Sure.”

Rogers dropped the phone from his ear and turned to the others. “Fury says he’s working for SHIELD. Has been for a while.”

Loki resisted the urge to smirk. “’Working for’ presumes a bit too much. One might say – to borrow your phrasing, apparently, Stark – that I consult on a case to case basis.”

“Consult on a-” Stark broke off, looking somewhere between incredulous and furious. Loki looked pointedly at the arrow on his face.

“Your director has found my talents periodically useful. Barton, if you don’t mind…”

“I do mind,” his hawkling snapped.

Stark’s expression was going progressively more sour. “That thing with Doctor Doom suddenly backing off and Fury was so sure it wasn’t a trap. Was that-”

Loki gave Stark his best smile. “I am quite persuasive when I have a mind to be.”

“Oh, I just bet you are,” Stark said, and then broke into a rather creative stream of swearing. “This is ridiculous. This is actually – the worst decision SHIELD has ever made, Fury’s delusional, completely out of his fucking mind-”

“Can we rule that out?” His hawkling again, harsh and angry. “Can we rule out that Fury’s been compromised, that this is some kind of mind control bullshit-”

“It isn’t.” _And the Spider speaks,_ Loki thought, a little dryly. “There’s a contract on file with his signature on it. It was negotiated a while ago. Fury thought it was the best option.”

Well. Now they were all staring at her. “Tasha?” said Barton, sounding faintly betrayed, arrow finally lowering from Loki’s eye. She did not look in the least uncomfortable.

“I put it together,” she said. “A while back. Don’t look at me like that, Clint, telling you would have been pointless.”

“And you didn’t think to mention this to any of us?” said the soldier, sounding nearly indignant.

“Fascinating as all this is,” Loki cut in, “I _am_ apparently needed somewhere, so if you would excuse me…” Their heads swiveled from arguing with each other to look at him. Loki arched his eyebrows. “Or would you like to waste some more time?”

“Do you know what this is about?” The Captain demanded. Loki shrugged.

“I do not, no.” Two minutes. Loki caught himself almost hoping they continued stalling, but then the Captain drew himself up, closing his eyes for a moment.

“All right,” he said, and before Loki could offer him a (very sarcastic) thanks, he added, “but you’re not going alone.”

“You’re not serious,” groaned Stark.

“I am serious,” Rogers said. Loki considered the lot of them for a moment, then threw back the covers and stood fluidly. Rogers made a strangled noise and Stark looked away, covering his eyes. Barton’s face went a little pink but he kept his eyes stubbornly on him, and Romanova gave him a frankly appraising glance that was rather insultingly dismissive.

“If you’ll excuse me,” Loki said, letting his eyebrows quirk. “I do need to get dressed. Unless you mean to stay and watch…”

They went.

* * *

Loki teleported himself directly to Nick Fury’s office and thus arrived somewhat ahead of the others. Fury was there and on his feet, looking stormier than usual. So was Thor.

Loki stopped dead, wondering for a brief, panicked moment if he could get away with simply leaving. Thor noticed him first, though, and turned. Loki nearly started back at the look on his face – exhaustion and despair. His face was stained with dirt, his usual shine noticeably dimmed.

“I am sorry,” Thor said, and he sounded sincere. “I do not mean to break my promise to you to keep my distance. But things have changed.”

“That’s suitably vague.” Loki looked away from Thor – with an effort, wondering what had _happened_ but he refused to ask and play the worried sibling – and focused on Fury. “I did not do them any damage, but they will be following me here shortly at the good Captain’s assistance. I would prefer to be gone by the time that they arrive.” He smiled, thinly. “You can explain, I’m sure.”

“That’s not going to be possible.” Fury’s expression was grim. “Does the name Thanos mean anything to you?”

Loki’s mouth went dry and the room suddenly seemed…alarmingly warm. He could not keep himself from glancing at Thor, who did not seem surprised to hear the name of the boogeyman from old tales. “You should not say that name too often,” he said, finally.

“I don’t think it matters at this point,” Fury said. “Do you know the name or not?”

“Yes,” Loki said, after a moment. He could feel his heart sinking fast. “I’m familiar with it.”

“Because he was the one who sent you here back when you came looking to conquer,” Fury said. It wasn’t a question, and Loki didn’t answer it.

“Is it he who is attacking Asgard, then?” Loki asked, turning on Thor. Thor bowed his head, very slightly.

“Not…personally, but his forces, yes. Father is keeping him out of Asgard and thus the vaults, for now, but…” Thor glanced away. “I came to see if Midgard could send aid.”

Loki felt himself wind tight. “Are you sending me there?” he demanded of Fury, but Fury shook his head.

“No. Thanos isn’t on Asgard because he’s coming here.” Fury crossed his arms. “At 0800 hours this morning we picked up a transmission targeted for our – SHIELD’s – special frequencies. The techs decoded it and it turned out to be…a video, of sorts. Of this…Thanos, introducing himself. Saying he was giving us fair warning. That he’d be arriving in forty-eight hours to ‘offer this planet unto Death.’” Loki fought not to shiver. He could almost hear Thanos’s voice in his ear.

“How did you know that I…” He hated the trace of a tremble in his voice and made himself swallow past the lump in his throat.

“He mentioned you. Not by name, but it was pretty clear.” Fury’s eye focused on him, intent and…worried. “I need to know what kind of threat we’re looking at, here.”

Loki wished Thor were not here. He could feel Thor watching him, almost feel his _worry._ “One of the worst,” he said, finally. “He…he is known as the Mad Titan. The last of his race. It is said that he killed all the others, seeking to make Death his lover. That…may be rumor. I do not know.”

“I don’t need rumor, I need _facts._ What can this guy do?”

Loki felt his shoulders quiver. “I do not know – the limits of his power. He is strong, intelligent. It is – it is good that he hasn’t reached Asgard, yet; with the Infinity Gauntlet he would be…there was a war, eons ago, that nearly ripped the Nine Realms apart, and he was its instigator. Alone.” He licked his lips.

“You’re telling me he’s invincible.”

“Not invincible. But…nearly. Yes.”

“You never mentioned this.” Thor’s voice was quiet. “If you had said – if you had told father about Thanos-”

 _I didn’t want to think about it._ “Make no mistake,” Loki said, clawing his way back into control and sneering in Thor’s direction. “My choices were still mine. As to giving warning, I assumed the Titan was incapable of breaking through the barrier that kept him outside of these realms. It appears I was wrong.”

“Wrong about what? Oh, hey, Thor- whoa. What happened to your face?” Stark, of course, waltzed in first, the rest of the company following after. Barton made a beeline for Fury.

“Director, I’d like to respectfully ask what the _hell_ you were thinking-”

“Not right now, Agent Barton.” Fury’s eyes lingered on Loki for a moment longer before moving away. “We have a hostile incoming, expected arrival in 48 hours, maybe less. Level eight.”

“There’s no such thing as a level eight,” Romanova said, her eyes flicking from Loki to Thor and then to Fury.

“There is now.” Fury eyed them all and then went over to his computer and tapped a few keys. A projection screen lowered from the ceiling covered in hissing static. “We received this video transmitted from an unknown source located somewhere around Uranus.”

“There’s a joke to be made here,” Stark began, but miraculously, fell silent at a quelling look from Rogers.

“Nothing could reach here in forty-eight hours from that distance,” Banner said, back in his human form and keeping, Loki noticed, on the opposite side of the room. For whose sake, Loki wondered?

“Think again,” he said, flatly, keeping his eyes focused on the screen.

The screen fuzzed once more, and then cleared. Loki was staring at the face of his former master. It took a force of will not to look away. “Greetings, people of Earth,” he said, and Loki felt himself shiver. Then there was a warm presence just behind his shoulder, not touching but still palpably there. Loki did not question the surge of gratitude he felt.

Thor could not be his enemy anymore.

More to the point, he realized with a sudden jolt, Thor _was_ not his enemy anymore. And hadn’t been, for some time now.

“Moth – Frigga?” he asked lowly, over Thanos’s intoned introductions of himself.

“Is…if not well, she is safe.” Thor’s voice was quiet as well. He sounded almost reluctant when he added, “she wished me to say…she asked if I saw you to say that she misses you.” Loki felt his mouth tug at one corner.

“Does she.” He focused his attention once more on Thanos, finding that less disconcerting than thinking too much of Frigga and the danger she might be in. Was in.

“—come to conquer, but to challenge,” Thanos was saying. “I have no wish to rule your world. You are welcome to fight me. I hope that you will. But I do not negotiate and I do not lose.” Loki imagined he could feel that voice in his bones, like they were cracking all over again. “I feel it is fair that you know what I intend for your people. First, I will destroy these heroes who defended your planet before. Then I will offer the rest to my Lady.”

The Avengers were silent, all of them watching.

“Surrender will earn you nothing,” Thanos went on, “but the shame of cowardly death. This is your only warning.” He fell silent for a moment, then added, “the creature who attacked you at my bidding before still lives. The one who brings it to me alive will have the honor of dying first. You have forty-eight hours.”

The screen clicked off. Loki’s mouth felt parched as a desert, his throat closed. He held very still. He doubted anyone in this room would take the offer, but he supposed it was possible that…Fury might still believe he could negotiate. Might try to, using the one thing Thanos had said he wanted. Was that why Thor was here? Was that-

“Sound like you’re not exactly Mr. Big, Mean, and Purple’s favorite guy, Lokester,” Stark said after a moment. “Does _anyone_ like you?”

“Not the time,” Fury almost barked. Banner shifted.

“Why give us a warning?” Banner asked. “Give us a chance to prepare-”

“The harder you fight the more glorious your defeat,” Loki said, tonelessly. “And the better offering your species will make.”

“Offering?” Romanova asked.

“To Death.” Loki jerked his head to the side. “He will slaughter every last one of you.”

“Us, the Avengers?” Stark said, sounding almost hopeful.

“No,” Banner said, a faint note of horror in his voice. He was starting to understand. “Us, humanity. When we beat you and the Chitauri…that just made us a more appealing target. So now this…Thanos, he’s coming here, and he’s going to wipe out the entire Earth so he can give it to Death, who he believes is a woman he’s trying to court. Is that…did I get that right?”

“Jesus Christ,” Barton muttered. “Is _everyone_ in space insane? No offense, Thor-”

“What can we do?” the Captain said, interrupting, and now he was looking at Loki. Stark seemed affronted.

“You’re asking _him?_ The supervillain who brought his attention to this planet to begin with?”

“I didn’t,” Loki said flatly. “You did. Your work on the Tesseract drew his attention. He would have come here sooner or later, with or without my help.”

“You, shut up,” Barton said, “We need more people, first off. Contact Xavier-”

“SHIELD doesn’t work with Professor X,” Fury said, voice taut. “Officially, he’s only barely considered an ally-”

“What a surprise,” Stark muttered, at the same time as the Captain said, “Don’t you think now’s not the time for official prejudice?”

“The Fantastic Four, then,” Barton said. “Pull Strange in-”

“The former are off planet and out of contact range,” Romanoff said, “and if anyone knew how to contact Strange he’d already be here. No, I think-”

“I think we should be asking the one person in this room who’s actually had any experience with Thanos,” the Captain insisted. “But I don’t see why we can’t involve the Professor and his team. A situation like this seems to me we could use anyone no matter what-”

“It’s not _my_ call, Rogers,” Fury said, as Stark snapped, “and you’re about to take _his_ word? On _anything?_ ” Loki found himself watching them, his mind in a whirl. Bickering, he thought, in one almost quiet corner of his brain. They were bickering _now,_ as their world hurtled toward a doom they could scarcely comprehend. They were a fragmented bunch of misfits at the best of times, quick to come apart. They had pulled together enough to beat him, but against Thanos…

“Loki,” Thor said, and his hand moved like he wanted to put it on Loki’s shoulder but then thought better of it. “What are you thinking? I know you, you must have some plan, some…”

“There is no plan,” Loki said, his voice dull. “Thanos is nearly invincible. So close it nearly makes no difference.”

Thor’s jaw set. “There must be something _._ I will fight him, buy you time while you…if there is some magical artifact…”

For a moment, Loki stopped breathing. It was impossible. Thoroughly impossible. He was a fool to even consider…

“I don’t buy it,” Stark was saying now. “Nothing’s that powerful. Everything has a weakness. We’ll take this Thanos down like we’ve taken down every other threat that’s tried to burn up and take over the world-”

“If Loki’s telling the truth, you haven’t faced anything like this before,” Fury said, his frustration audible.

“Do you hear yourself?” Barton, this time. “’If Loki’s telling the truth.’ He _worked_ for this guy, what makes you think he’s not still working for him now?”

“You think I didn’t think about that? I’m not a moron, Barton.” Fury’s voice had risen a notch. “Whatever your personal issues, Loki’s been an asset to this organization. And Captain Rogers is right – he knows more about this ‘Thanos’ than anyone else we know.”

“So what?” Stark again, his voice harsh. “I haven’t heard him offering any brilliant ideas. Go ahead, Loki! Got anything for us?”

He was hardly listening to them. Unimportant bickering. Who knew how long they would be at it.

“What’s he doing?” Banner sounded anxious.

Possibility after possibility flicked through Loki’s mind. He took each one, examined it, cast it aside. Thor’s hand did grip his shoulder. “Loki?” he asked lowly, and Loki shook his head in a jerk.

“Shut it, Thor. I’m thinking.”

“Thinking what,” Romanova asked, and Thor shushed her. Loki half closed his eyes, picturing layouts, defenses. Thinking of Thanos, everything he knew about Thanos, everything he’d ever read. Myth, legend, superstition. His own experience. His own _torture._ Maybe…maybe.

 _If you can pull this off,_ a part of him thought, quietly, _you might save two realms._ And if he failed…he might be responsible for the destruction of more. A gamble. A risk.

And if he didn’t try?

“How to betray us, probably,” Barton muttered. “Save his own skin.” Loki felt his mouth twitch and blinked, once, lifting his chin.

“You’re all fools,” he said, and the mildness of his own voice surprised him. “Do you think I want this realm destroyed? Where would I go then? What would I have to gain from such an outcome? Thanos has no equals, only servants, and I am not particularly interested in becoming one of those again.”

Barton was watching him skeptically, warily. Loki glanced at Banner, but…no. He could not be certain that his beast could be commanded, directed.

“Say we believe you,” Stark said, his voice a challenge. “Say I actually think you’re not going to stab us in the back. So what? I still haven’t heard any ideas from you. You seem pretty certain we’re all screwed by this all powerful, insane being. Sounds familiar. We beat you.”

“He will fry you in your armor, Stark.” Loki didn’t even glance at him. “All your firepower will do nothing but irritate him, and for that he will melt your iron skin until it burns the flesh from your bones and you are nothing but a skeleton encased in slag metal.” Stark was, blessedly, silent. “The rest of you will pose even less challenge, save perhaps Thor and your Hulk. They might last long enough to watch the rest of this world burn. If he does not choose to claim their minds instead and turn them to his will.”

“Like you did to me,” Barton said, his teeth almost bared.

“No,” Loki said, not quite dully. “Not like. I twisted your thoughts. He would burn all of them away until there was nothing but a hollow shell to be filled with his will.” Banner looked faintly nauseous. Loki could see Thor’s hand tighten on Mjolnir out of the corner of his eye.

“So how do we defeat him?” the Captain asked, ever the pragmatist. Loki stared at the screen, something cold in his gut, too bleak to be called determination.

“You don’t,” he said, and of course it came to this. The course of the fates led one direction, after all, and he’d slipped the noose once. This time…fight and die, or flee and die. Not such a difficult choice after all.

“Ignoring Mr. Fatalism over there,” Stark started, “who may or may not even be on our si-”

“You don’t,” Loki repeated, and fixed his eyes on those in the screen. _You tore me down, once. I will do the same to you._ “ _I_ do,” he said, and the silence almost made him smile.


End file.
